And Life Goes On
by kolibrarian
Summary: This is a little Epilogue piece from my imagination and love for Everlark. Katniss and Peeta have their first baby. If you could write a review, even just a word, it would help me. Thank you!


**And Life Goes On**

"Push!" my mother demands. She sits between my legs, having come back from District 13 to help me deliver this baby…our baby…Peeta's and mine. I bear down as hard as I can and feel like I'm going to burst a vein in my temple.

I know why they call it labor; I've never worked so hard in my life! And I'm terrified. It's been almost seven hours of contractions. Of course they were mild at first and I called Mom to tell her she would be a grandmother today. She immediately took a shuttle and got here two hours ago, just about the time I went into hard labor. I reluctantly admit I feel better having my mother here. She has delivered many babies in the Seam, and some in District 13, too.

Peeta's presence soothes me more than hers, though. He is kneeling behind me on the bed, letting me lean on him. He pats my sweaty forehead with a cool wet cloth, and tells me to pant. I want him to save me. I want him to take me away from this pain. I don't want to pant. Instead I moan. Then I hear Peeta panting in my ear and I can't help but laugh weakly.

"Please, Katniss, you're supposed to pant when you're not pushing," he says. He is so serious.

"That's right, Katniss," agrees my mother. I can barely see the top of her blonde head over the sheet that's draped across my lap and knees. I can feel her fingers. What is she doing down there?

Before I can start panting, the contraction starts again. I sense it will be powerful, building like a wave that will crash over me, fling me upon the rocks, and leave me drowning in deep water. I will my fear away by getting angry with myself for not pushing this baby out yet. I take a deep breath and feel Peeta's arms tighten against my back. He holds me up while I grab behind my knees and push with all my might. I am determined to get this over with right _now_.

'That's it!" encourages Mom. I feel a burning sensation and she tells me the head is out and the hard part is over. "Just push one last time, dear…not so hard."

I hardly have any strength left, but Peeta squeezes my hand, so I try. The rest of the baby slips right out.

"Oh my…yes, you sweet darling…what a big girl," Mom murmurs as she grabs a towel from the bucket she brought with her to rub the baby. But I barely hear her; I am waiting to hear something else. Joy fills me when my daughter—our daughter—lets out a tiny staccato cry that ends with a little hiccup. I close my eyes and smile.

"It's a girl, Sweetheart!" Peeta gently moves off the bed and lays my head on the pillow to go see. I am overwhelmed with relief that my ordeal is over, and it feels so impossibly good, I almost drift to sleep. Then Peeta is by my side, with a small, white, hiccupping bundle cradled in his arms. He is crying silently, letting the tears run and drop onto his shirt. He has patiently waited for this for a long time, and I have never loved him more than I do in this moment.

He lays the baby on my chest so I can see her. She is dark pink, probably going to have my complexion. I lift the towel and see that the fine hair on her head is dark. I feel selfish, but proud that she favors me.

"I love you so much," whispers Peeta, and he leans over and kisses me on the mouth. He kisses his new daughter on the cheek. I am amazed how aware she seems to be, how she is studying my face at the same time I am studying hers. I'm in awe of this tiny human being that came from my body, and filled with protective mother instincts. I know I would die to keep her safe.

This is Life. This is the reason for living. If I hadn't had Peeta, I would have stopped living a long, long time ago. Prim enters my mind then, and I feel a nostalgic sadness that my baby won't know her, or that Prim won't ever know her niece. Prim would have been an excellent Aunt.

I look up at Peeta, who had been watching his wife and daughter stare at each other. He grins and I return it. "What shall we name her?" he asks.

He knows perfectly well the name I had picked out for a girl. Beatriss. It was my father's mother's name, although I never knew her. Peeta didn't like it, and this was his way of telling me he'd like to name her something else. Right now, I am so happy, and so in love with Peeta, that he can name her whatever he wants. I raise my eyebrows in a silent question.

"I've been thinking," he starts, "I think her name should be Rose. After…"

"Primrose," we both say in unison. It's perfect. I feel ashamed that I didn't think of it myself.

"Oh, Peeta, it's perfect!" I reach out and he bends over and wraps his arms around the both of us. My arm goes around his neck, and I realize he's been sweating as much as I have. He'd been between the headboard and me for hours, pushing against my weight with every contraction. My poor husband had been in his own form of labor, not leaving me once the whole time.

My mother is finished cleaning up the mess, and wraps the placenta in a plastic bag and drops it into her bucket. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears. "Rose," she repeats quietly and nods. "Thank you for that," she says to me.

Peeta hurries to hug her. He thanks her profusely for coming so quickly when he called. "I couldn't do it without you," and I smile when he hesitantly adds, "Mom."

My mother wipes her eyes before she leans over me and kisses my forehead. "You did well, Dear. You'll be sore for a few days, but you'll be fine," she assures me. Then she takes the baby and addresses Peeta. "She will be healing for a few weeks, so you leave her alone and let her heal, ok?" His face reddens as he nods. Then she takes Rose into the kitchen, promising to bring her right back.

I reach a hand out to Peeta and he is there immediately. His blonde hair is drooping in his eyes, so I brush it to the side. "You need a haircut," I say.

"Thank you, Katniss," he replies, love shining in his sparkling blue eyes, and I understand what he means.

"Thank _you_ , Husband," I answer.

Suddenly tears blur my vision. A lone tear escapes and slides down my cheek, because I am not able to express how thankful I am that Peeta never gave up on me. Haymitch was right; he was right about everything. I don't deserve this wonderfully kind man standing in front of me, and I don't understand why he fell in love with me. But he's mine, and I'm his. My heart explodes with a joy I never expected would exist for me. I have no words, so I pull him down to me and try to express it in my kiss. This is Life. And Life goes on.


End file.
